


Over The Edge

by Tanith11



Category: The Streets of San Francisco
Genre: Action, Crime, Drama, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanith11/pseuds/Tanith11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jeannie is attacked by two seemingly innocent trick or treaters on the night of Halloween, Steve is assigned with a new partner to find the culprits, as Mike struggles to keep his emotions from boiling over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original characters, locations or canon information depicted in the series "The Streets of San Francisco". I'm just borrowing them for my pleasure and hopefully the enjoyment of others.

_Residence of Mike Stone, October 31_ _st_ _, 1973_

The knocking on the door grew persistent. Jeannie Stone turned down the heat on the stove before she picked up a bowl of assorted candy bars and rushed out of the kitchen. She opened the front door with one hand, while holding the bowl in the other. A smile broke out across her face when she was met by two figures standing on the doorstep dressed up as Frankenstein and the Wolfman. "Aren't you two a little too old to be trick or treating?" Jeannie quipped, looking up at the two men. She held out the bowl of treats for them and grinned broadly.

A hand shot forward and pushed the young college student backward as the two men forced their way into the house. The bowl flew from her hand and fell to the floor. A gasp turned to a scream which was cut short by a hand covering her mouth. The front door slammed shut and Jeannie's eyes widened in horror as the man in the Frankenstein costume tore at her blouse.

Mortified, Jeannie struggled to free herself from the grappling hold the man had on her. She clawed at his face; her finger nails raking down his cheek and peeling away the green face paint from his skin. She tried to pull his hand away from her face and ripped his sleeve, revealing a tattoo on his forearm of a crow in a shield. She fell back onto the floor and stars exploded in her eyes as her head connected with something hard. Darkness closed in and consumed her.

The two men looked at one another, before Frankenstein unbuckled his belt and stepped closer to the prone girl.

"Hey, man, let's get out of here. She's bleeding!" the Wolfman said, nervously. He reached out and gripped his companion's arm.

"So? What did you think we were going to do here? Have a tea party? If you don't want to watch, keep your eye on that window. I don't want any interruptions from a bunch of brats, you got that?"

"Oh come on, Rick! I thought you were just kidding around. You're not seriously gonna…"

"Shut up, Evans and watch that window!"

At the sound of a car pulling up, both young men swore under their breaths. Headlights shone through the drawn curtains and a car door opened and shut.

"Let's go!" Zach Evans called out to his friend as he bounded down the hallway, searching for a back door.

Zipping up his jeans, Rick Morgen dashed after his accomplice.

* * *

Sliding the key into the lock, SFPD's Lieutenant Mike Stone unlocked the door to his home. "Something smells good! You know I could…." The words died on the detective's lips as his eyes roamed over the still body of his daughter lying on the floor with her blouse unbuttoned and blood trailing from her scalp. "Jeannie? Oh my God! Jeannie!" Mike dropped his keys to the floor and hurried to his daughter's side. He knelt beside her and checked for her pulse. His hands trembled as he mechanically checked for injuries. It didn't take long for him to locate the source of the blood flow from her head. Her light brown hair was matted from where she bled. Placing his handkerchief under her head to staunch the bleeding, Mike then shrugged out of his coat and draped it carefully over her body. He rose shakily to his feet and made his way to the telephone in the living room. "Operator, get me an ambulance….."


	2. ACT I: Part 1

General Hospital, October 31st, 1973

The waiting room seemed to be shrinking in on itself for the seasoned Lieutenant. He ran his hand over his perspiring face and stood up then walked out into the corridor.

"Mike!" an all too familiar, yet comforting voice called out, followed by hurried footsteps leading toward the aging cop.

Mike turned to greet his partner but couldn't work up the energy to speak.

"Healy and Tanner are at your place with forensics. They've got patrol units out canvassing the area but the streets are crawling with kids trick or treating and they're not sure what to look for. Has Jeannie said anything? How is she?" Steve inquired, a little breathlessly.

"I don't know. She's still in the ER. She was unconscious when they brought her in," Mike began but a fiery pain travelled up his throat and became dislodged as he thought back on what the doctor outlined earlier.

"Mike, what is it?" Steve asked, his own voice becoming strained from the look of apprehension written all over his mentor's weathered face.

"They…they're examining her. The doctors suspect she may have been criminally assaulted. Oh God, my little girl! How…how could anyone…" Mike stammered, squeezing his eyes shut and covering them with a trembling hand as he felt the moisture behind them building.

Steve's cursing went unnoticed by the older man as he wheeled around and nervously ran his fingers through his wavy hair. He felt as though a fist had just been driven straight through his chest and could only imagine the anguish that Mike was feeling. He was as close to a father to him as one could get, and Jeannie meant the world to both of them. He knew that if Jeannie had been sexually assaulted, the emotional impact had the potential to tear their lives apart. There was no telling how long or if Jeannie would recover from such an ordeal and knowing Mike the way he knew him, Steve hoped he wouldn't do anything he would later regret. The last thought almost caused him to laugh sardonically, for he didn't know himself what he would do to the perpetrator who hurt Jeannie. Breathing out a heavy sigh, Steve turned back to face Mike but before he could say another word an interruption came in the form of Dr. Moore.

"Stone?" Dr. Moore called out from down the hall way.

Mike wiped his eyes vigorously then looked the physician squarely in the eye.

"You can relax now, both of you. Jeannie will be fine. She sustained a mild concussion and needed a few stitches for a gash to her head but other than being shaken up and sore, she's going to be alright, physically."

"Was she…," Mike began to ask the question he dreaded asking.

Dr. Moore shook his head and smiled reassuringly.

Mike felt compelled to pull the doctor into a hug but refrained and held out his hand instead to thank him.

"Of course we'll be keeping her for a couple of days for observation. I thought you might be interested in this. We found what looks like some residue from cosmetic paint under her nails. They must've got there when she struggled against her attacker." Dr. Moore drew out a small sealed plastic sleeve from his top pocket and handed it to the detective.

"Thanks, Doc. We'll take it to the lab as soon as I see my daughter," Mike said anxiously as he took the sample and after a brief glance, he gave it to his partner.

"She's just regained consciousness and is still pretty groggy but you can both see her for a few minutes," Dr. Moore replied before he led the two men down the corridor.

Mike smiled wanly then nudged his partner, motioning for him to follow the doctor.

Relief replaced the nervousness in Steve's gut as he walked down the corridor beside Mike toward Jeannie's room.

Jeannie threw her arms around her father's neck as he bent down over the bed and held her in a gentle embrace. "You have no idea how worried I've been. And Steve too!" Mike said in a voice thick with emotion.

"Well, you can both stop your worrying now. I just want to go home," Jeannie replied with a grimace.

"Oh no you don't. Doc wants to keep you in for a couple of days. Besides, you'll be safer here while Steve and I find whoever did this to you and get him off the streets!" Mike exclaimed passionately.

A dark cloud passed over Jeannie's face and she suddenly paled as she relieved the nightmare in her mind. "There were two of them, Mike."

"Sweetheart, can you describe them for me?" Mike asked tentatively as he sat on the edge of the bed while Steve pulled out his notebook.

"They were dressed in Halloween costumes. One of them was the Wolf Man. He was about your height," Jeannie inclined her head toward Steve then continued, "The other was maybe a little taller and he was dressed as Frankenstein."

"Do you remember if they said anything to you? Even if you can't remember the words, maybe they had an accent?" Steve asked.

"Um…I can't remember. It all happened so fast!" Jeannie's frustration to recall the details from her hazy memory showed as she brought her hand up and messaged her forehead.

Mike reached out and took her hand in his. "It's alright, Sweetheart. Just take your time. Tell you what, we can come back later when you've had some time to rest and gather your thoughts."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could be of more help."

"You have," Mike asserted then leaned forward and kissed Jeannie on the forehead, before giving her hand a light pat then releasing it and rose to his feet. As much as the cop part of him wished Jeannie could tell him more about the men who attacked her, his fatherly instincts told him not to push it.

"Take care, Jeannie. I'll swing by a little later, okay?" Steve said quietly as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, allowing his fingers to linger by interlacing them with hers, momentarily. With a small smile she nodded then waited until the door swung shut behind the men, before closing her eyes and praying for a dreamless sleep.

Steve knew Mike too well to not notice his mentor was deeply affected by the attack on his daughter and by what could've transpired but thankfully didn't. Almost jogging to keep up with Mike's long and hurried strides, Steve grasped him by the shoulder and they came to a halt in the middle of the corridor. "Hey, slow down, will you? Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine. Come on, let's get that sample to the lab, then we'll hit the streets and…"

"And then, what?"

With a sigh of exasperation, Mike rounded on Steve, "What's the matter with you? Two men just attacked my Jeannie! What do you think I'm going to do? Sit around the office? I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to find them so they can't hurt someone else's daughter!"

"Mike, there could be dozens of kids wearing similar costumes on your street alone. We can't go around arresting all of them. Let's just get to the lab and then we'll go back to your place. Maybe the perps left behind some evidence that could lead us in the right direction. Look, I know you're rattled after what happened, but we need to step back and think things through."

Silence spread into minutes until finally Mike took a deep breath and broke the stillness, "Okay, you're right, Buddy Boy. I just can't help thinking that I could've stopped them, if only I walked through that door a few minutes earlier."

"Maybe it was because you got home when you did that Jeannie escaped the worst of what could've happened."

Swallowing, Mike could only nod before the two men walked in solemn silence toward the exit.


	3. ACT I: Part 2

_Residence of Lieutenant Mike Stone, October 31_ _st_ _, 1973_

It was well after midnight by the time the forensics crew left Mike's home, leaving the Lieutenant and his partner to themselves.

"You look beat. Why don't you get some shut eye and I'll swing by first thing in the morning. There's nothing more we can do here, Mike. Very little was disturbed which confirms the fact that whoever forced their way in didn't get a chance to do more damage. We'll have to wait until at least mid-morning for the results to come through. " Steve said thoughtfully.

"Maybe I should stay at the hospital, just in case." Mike's hollow reply and a faraway look in his eyes worried his partner.

"I already made the arrangements. There'll be a police guard by her door all night and tomorrow too. Get some rest. She's in safe hands."

Sighing in defeat, Mike relented to Steve's suggestion and bade him goodnight.

* * *

_SFPD, Bureau of Inspectors, 850 Bryant Street, November 1_ _st,_ _1973_

The ride into the office early the next morning was one filled with silence and despondency. While Steve maintained a hopeful outlook, Mike's agitation from a restless night mingled with his concern for his daughter created a tension filled atmosphere between them.

Upon entering the bureau, Olson's voice called out to Mike. He left Steve's side and headed straight for the chief's office.

Mike took a seat in front of Olsen's desk. The door closed behind him.

"How are you doing, Mike?" Olsen asked in a neutral tone as he sat behind his desk with his hands clasped in front of him.

"I'll feel a lot better once I get those punks off the street." Mike instantly wished he had replied differently but the words tumbled out before he could stop them. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat under Olsen's scrutinizing gaze.

"Maybe you should take the rest of the day off. You look like hell," Olsen replied gently.

Mike shook his head. "I'm fine, really. I'll leave a little early and see Jeannie before I go home, if that's alright?"

"Sure, you just do what you need to do and spend some time with your daughter. I imagine she's pretty shaken up by the ordeal but I'm just glad she wasn't seriously hurt."

"Thanks." Mike started to rise from his seat when Olsen's voice held him in place.

"One other thing Mike: I'd rather you didn't get involved in this case. We've got some great guys in the department who are more than capable of handling it." Olsen hoped he had softened the blow by engaging in small talk first but the determined look in Mike's eyes told him the seasoned detective wasn't going to be fooled into backing away from case.

"Come on, Rudy, don't do this. Please don't ask me to stand aside. Not from this case. I'm telling you that I _am_ fine."

With a heavy sigh, Olsen gave Mike's words a moment's thought, weighing his options, before relenting, "Okay, okay. But I don't want you to work yourself to breaking point on this. I know Jeannie's your daughter and you can't get any closer than that, which is why I feel like I'm going against my better judgement by allowing you to pursue this. Besides, looking at this from a professional standard, you have other cases that are listed as priority one sitting on your desk so I want you to prioritise accordingly. Don't let your personal feelings…"

"Get in the way. Yeah, I know, Rudy. I wrote the book on that a long time ago," Mike finished Olsen's sentence for him and smiled wanly.

"Alright. Give my regards to Jeannie when you see her later," Olsen dismissed the seasoned detective and hoped he made the right decision by allowing Mike to work on a case he didn't feel he should be working on.

* * *

The morning gave way to the afternoon by the time Mike and Steve returned to the bureau from an interview with a witness to a gang-related homicide case. The phone on Steve's desk rang as Mike headed to his office.

Several minutes passed before Steve got off the phone and hurried to his partner's office. "Lab guys just called. They've confirmed the paint samples from under Jeannie's finger nails was a particular type and brand of cosmetic paint. I'll look up all the stores that stock the product"

"What about those prints on the door and the walls?"

Steve slowly shook his head in disappointment. "Some belonged to Jeannie, you or myself while others were inconclusive."

"Okay. Work on the list of stores that carry that particular paint and see if perhaps we can get some names of customers who purchased it. I'll start going through the books for previous offenders who may be potential suspects," Mike instructed.

"Got it." Steve wasted no time and went back to his desk to make a start on his list.

* * *

When the phone rang on Mike's desk, the Lieutenant snatched up the receiver and greeted the caller curtly.

" _Mike? It's me, Jeannie. If this is a bad time, I can call you back later…"_ Jeannie's uncertain tone filtered through from the other line.

Mike's voice caught in his throat but he quickly recovered, "No, Sweetheart, it's not a bad time. In fact I've been thinking about you. How are you feeling?"

" _Better. Dr. Moore said I could go home as soon as tomorrow."_

"That's great, Sweetheart. I hope you weren't giving the good doctor any grief, now," Mike playfully admonished.

" _No, really, he said he'll think about it. Listen, I think my memory's coming back to me. I wanted to tell you there was something else I remembered about the guy that was holding on to me; the one with the Frankenstein outfit. He had a tattoo of a black bird of some kind on his arm. I've been trying to put together as much detail as I could in my mind but some of it's still fuzzy."_

"It's okay, Jeannie, you're doing great. Just don't push yourself. I know you went through quite an ordeal. If I send a police sketch artist over to the hospital can you give him enough details for him to draw an image of this tattoo you saw?"

" _I think so. I'll try."_

"Alright, I'll send him along shortly. Steve and I will drop by later on to see how you're doing."

" _That sounds great. I just can't wait to get out of here."_

"I know, Sweetheart, but you just listen to what the doctor says. I'll see you later." Mike ended the conversation but waited until he heard the dial tone on the other end first before he hung up. Rising from his chair, he strode over to his office door then called out, "Haseejian. Get me a sketch artist to go over to the hospital. Jeannie remembers a tattoo one of the guys had on his arm."

"On it," Norm Haseejian replied.

* * *

Perusing the third book of mug-shots, Mike almost spat coffee all over the desk as his eyes came to rest on a photo of a young man with a tattoo of a black eagle on his forearm. Placing his mug of coffee down on the desk harder than intended, Mike's bespectacled eyes read through the string of offenses the man had committed including the most recent being a home invasion and rape. Aged in his mid-twenties, he read that the felon, Harvey Milton Decklan, had only just been released on parole a couple of weeks ago and resided in the district, within walking distance of where Mike lived. _Got to be him!_ Lifting the book from his desk, he walked out of his office and called out, "Steve, I think we got him!"

* * *

_Residence of Harvey Decklan_

The door to Harvey Decklan's run-down apartment opened slowly and was stopped by the sliding chain lock from opening any further.

"Who the hell are you? What do you want?" the young man behind the door demanded icily.

"Lieutenant Stone, SFPD and Inspector Keller. We're from homicide. Open up, Decklan!" Mike ordered.

"Hold on, let me unlock this will you?" Decklan's low response was followed by the door shutting then footsteps hurrying away from the front entrance.

"Steve! Fire-escape out back!" Mike's urgent outburst was unnecessary as Steve was already sprinting down the stairs. The Lieutenant kicked the door in, breaking the chain lock. With his hand resting on his holster, ready to draw his pistol if needs be, Mike rushed into the apartment and headed toward the opened window leading to a metal staircase. "Hold it!" He shouted at the retreating figure who looked up briefly then continued his flight.

The young Inspector reached the bottom of the metal steps where he caught sight of the ex-convict trying to make a quick getaway.

Decklan cursed out loud as another plain clothes detective came into view below him, cutting off his escape route. In a last ditch attempt to get away from the law, Decklan clambered over the rail and jumped the last few steps, landing several feet away from where the detective stood.

Nimble on his feet, Steve Keller dashed after the suspect. "Hold it!" Steve yelled as he ran through the alleyway after Decklan. A dead end up ahead stopped the parolee in his tracks momentarily until the young man tried to climb the rubbish disposal unit to get over the brick wall behind it. Steve lunged after the man, making a grab for his ankle to pull him back down but a boot connected sharply with his jaw and he fell back in a daze.

With his balance disrupted by the detective, Decklan slipped off the waste disposal lid and toppled onto the ground in a heap. Rough hands grabbed him by the shoulders and pinned him to the ground. Much to his chagrin he felt a knee dig into the small of his back as he tried to wriggle free then he felt himself being frisked.

"You're under arrest, Decklan! You have the right to remain silent…" the breathless Lieutenant read out the Miranda rights to the struggling figure beneath him and secured a pair of hand cuffs around the man's wrists. Dragging the arrested man to his feet, Mike slammed him against the disposal unit.

"Hey man, take it easy!" Decklan whined. "What are you after me for, huh? I ain't done nothin' since I got out of the joint!"

"And what about last night? You forced your way into a house and attacked a young girl!" Mike snapped, breathing heavily.

"Hey, that wasn't me! I didn't attack no girl! I was home all night! You can ask my parole officer," Decklan argued.

From out of the corner of his eye, Mike saw Steve slowly climb to his feet. "Are you alright, Steve?"

"Yeah, I'll live," Steve replied, rubbing his aching jaw. He moved to stand beside his partner, eyeing the panting young man cuffed in front of him.

"You guys are crazy! I ain't done nothin'!"

"Oh yeah? Then why are you running?" Steve questioned.

"Because you're a cop! Guys like me who did their time are always the first ones who gets picked on for every crime in this God forsaken city, because you're all too damned lazy to find yourselves _real_ suspects!" Decklan retorted.

Steve shook his head, scoffing under his breath, "Yeah I wonder why that is."

"Alright, let's go!" Mike took hold of Decklan by the upper arm and together with Steve, the three men headed out of the alleyway toward the tan LTD parked nearby.


	4. ACT II: Part 1

_SFPD, Bureau of Inspectors, 850 Bryant Street_

Rocking the chair backward and forwards, Decklan avoided the Lieutenant's gaze and insisted on speaking to his lawyer.

"I'm going to ask you one more time and if I don't get an honest answer, I'll have you thrown in a cell! Where were you last night?" Mike grilled.

"I told you, man, I was with my parole officer, Officer Davidson! I'm not answering any more questions."

"Until my partner gets back with Officer Davidson, we're not done here! Have you ever seen this girl. Take a good look at her!" Mike snapped as he shoved a recent college photo of Jeannie in front of the young lout, hoping to see him react and forcing a confession out of him.

Rolling his eyes impatiently, Decklan took the picture from Mike's grasp and a smirk crossed his features. Looking up at the detective and locking eyes with him defiantly, he taunted, "Look, you want the truth, old man? With a cute mouth like that, she looks like the type of girl who would beg me to have my way with her but I…" Before Decklan could finish his lewd remark, he felt himself grabbed by the collar and thrown to the floor.

Breathing hard, Mike didn't even hear the door opening but he felt someone tugging him away from Decklan as he reached for the street-wise young man who was struggling to his feet.

"Mike! Hold it!" Steve pulled his partner away from the suspect and kept a firm hold of his shirt. "His story checks out. Davidson was with him until the early hours of the morning, playing cards!"

"What?" Mike shot back.

"I _said,_ his story checks out. He's not our man," Steve repeated breathlessly.

Mike's shoulders slumped, all the fight leaving him as he realized the implications of Steve's words. They had arrested the wrong man.

"You can go. Go on!" Olsen jerked his thumb toward the door.

Mike felt his world crashing down when Olsen's terse voice filled his ears and he knew what was to come.

Straightening himself up and brushing himself off, Harvey Decklan gave Mike one last reproachful look before strutting out of the office.

"My office, Mike. Now," Olsen ordered before he too left the cubicle.

Steve leaned his back against the desk and crossed his arms. He looked his partner in the eye and could see the guilt, shame and anger behind them. He opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Mike held up his hand and shut him down.

"Don't. Just don't."

The door of Mike's office slammed shut and Steve cursed aloud. Mike had crossed the line and he knew Rudy was going to have it out with him and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

* * *

It felt like the longest ten minutes of his life as Mike sat rigidly in front of the Captain's desk, trying hard to process every word that Olsen drilled into him.

"You're taking me off the case," Mike said matter-of-factly.

"It's for the best and you know it. I'm not beyond reasonable here, Mike. I've decided to allow Steve to continue with the case. He'll be working with Morgen on it," Olsen explained.

"Morgen? You're not just assigning him the case but you're giving him a new partner?" Mike questioned incredulously.

"It's only temporary. I want you to take a couple of days leave to cool off. That's an order," Olsen's tone left no room for argument but he steeled him for an attempt.

"I can't believe you're doing this! I really can't."

"If that kid has half a brain, he's within his rights to press charges against you for assault and sue the department for wrongful arrest and police brutality."

"And how about assaulting a police officer? Did you take a good look at that bruise on Steve's jaw? He got that from that punk when we arrested…"

"It was Steve's choice not to press charges!" Olsen's voice rode over the top of mike's argument cutting the Lieutenant off. "When he found out that Decklan had a solid alibi, he knew it was safer for you and the department to drop the incident completely. The problem is, you're taking this case way too personally and I don't like it. Back off and let Steve handle it."

Shaking his head in disgust, Mike got up from his seat and trudged out of the office. Over twenty years of experience told me that Rudy was right, and that most of the anger he was feeling was directed at himself but there was no way his bull-headedness was going to let him admit to that. He walked past Steve's desk, ignoring the disconcerted stares of his partner and Tanner and headed straight for his office.

"Steve," Olsen called out from the doorway of his office.

The young Inspector exchanged a nervous look with Tanner before leaving his desk and heading for Olsen's office.

* * *

_Residence of Inspector Jeff Morgen,_

Juggling the football from hand to hand, Rick Morgen placed the ball on the counter top of the breakfast bar in the kitchen then reached for the telephone receiver. The phone had been ringing for some time and his first assumption was that his father was spending most of the night at the office again.

He greeted the caller but his eyes took on a darker shade when he recognized the caller's voice.

" _It's all over the news! What if the girl can describe us?"_

"And how will she do that, genius? She was out cold for starters! It was Halloween and we all wore costumes just like the rest of the kids in the neighbourhood!" Rick retorted angrily.

" _What if your dad got suspicious? He's a cop isn't he?"_

"My _dad!"_ Rick scoffed bitterly. "I'm surprised he still remembers I live here. He doesn't even know me! Relax, will you, Evans? No one's gonna know. Besides, nothing happened! Look I gotta go. I think dad's at the door." Rick hung up before Zach Evans could say anything else.

Rick met his father as he walked through their front door.

"Hey, how did training go? Sorry I missed it. I had to stay back at work again," Inspector Jeff Morgen said, as he reached out and ruffled his son's hair.

"Yeah, well, what's new, dad?" Rick replied sarcastically. He was used to the empty promises of a cop father.

"I'll make it up to you. Let's grab some burgers tonight and a couple of shakes. My treat. What do you say?"

The broad shouldered youth shrugged. "Whatever." _He just doesn't get it._ Not in the mood for another fight with his father, Rick kept his mouth shut and let his dad drone on about his work day as they locked up the house and headed out.


End file.
